


The Death of Seventeen

by thevalesofanduin



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: (it happens in a dream), Attempted Suicide, Gen, Guilt, because Pavel was done a disservice in the movies, but a neccesary one, just overall not a particularly happy fic, when they brushed what he did and what it would mean for him aside the way they did
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-10
Updated: 2018-01-10
Packaged: 2019-03-03 06:23:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13335321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thevalesofanduin/pseuds/thevalesofanduin
Summary: Seventeen is an age of exploration, of freedom, of excitement and growth and of being carefree.The numbers indicating Pavel’s age might say he’s seventeen, but he isn’t.Age, after all, is just a number.And Pavel isn’t really seventeen.Not anymore and never again.





	The Death of Seventeen

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve been wanting to write something like this for a while. The impact of Amanda’s death on Pavel because he is so young when that happens. Anyone would have trouble dealing with that, but what about a 17 year-old who barely knows how the world works? (posted on Tumblr a while ago but I desperately need to catch my AO3 up to all the things I've written)

_I lost her_

The sound of earth falling apart, rustling of clothes, a cold and dark realization, a scream.

_I lost her_

The swishing of the transporter, the familiar noises of figures materializing on the pad, the humming of the ship itself, it all fades into the background.

_I lost her_

A hand on his shoulder, shaky but firm and Scotty’s eyes devastated, his presence only short before he’s called away and his “ain’t your fault, laddy,” a soft yet uncomforting whisper.

_I lost her_

His eyes on the console, hands clenched into fists and his whole frame shaking uncontrollably as his mind chants _I lost her, I lost her, I lost her._

And as everyone rushes around and shouts and tries to get their act together, Pavel sits at the Transporter console – alone and forgotten – and shatters.

 

\---

 

Whenever he closes his eyes he’s there again, at the console with sweat on his brow and trembling fingers and he hears the screams, sees that he’s losing her on his screen. When he blinks through his tears there’s blood on his screen, blood on his hands and his Captain is standing next to him with disapproval on his face as he mumbles: “It’s your fault, Ensign. How could you?”

Whenever he sees Spock, sits at his console on the Bridge and _knows_ the First Officer is there, it’s like he is haunted. He hears Spock’s scream, sees the devastation in his eyes and feels a whole new sense of loss creep over him. He knows, logically, it’s not there. He’s imagining it, having flashbacks in some strange way but that doesn’t change the fact that whenever he is in Spock’s presence he feels as if he shouldn’t be there.

Whenever he is on the same level as the Transporter room he goes to great measures to avoid passing it. He can’t be in that space anymore without feeling panic rise in his chest, squeezing his lungs and constricting his throat. He can’t walk by without feeling devastated, a failure, blood on his hands.

_I lost her_

When he sleeps he has nightmares and when he is awake he feels as if he is _living_ a nightmare and he is _drowning_.

 

\---

 

“Pavel?” A soft whisper, a hesitant hand reaching out and worried eyes focused on him.

He blinks and glances to his right where Hikaru is looking at him, worried frown on his face.

“Are you okay? You’ve been zoning out a lot lately.”

A shuddering breath passes Pavel’s lips.

It’s true.

His nightmares, his flashbacks, the guilt that is eating him from the inside out like acid, he’s moving through life but he’s not sure how.

 _Of course_ his work would suffer.

He swallows thickly and glances to where Spock is speaking softly with the Captain.

A flash of guilt.

Devastation.

He lowers his eyes quickly and his throat feels thick, his limbs frozen. “I am -”

“It’s all right,” Hikaru reaches out a hand and puts it on Pavel’s shoulder, squeezes gently and he smiles sadly, “you don’t have to say it. I am here if you need. And if not me, anyone is, Pavel. We all care.”

Pavel nods shakily, wondering how they can care when all he sees is blame.

“But just… you should talk to someone.”

Talk to someone, Pavel thinks bitterly.

Because he can’t focus on his job anymore.

Already made one too many mistake.

_Your fault_

_I lost her_

“Yes,” he whispers, hands shaking, tears gathering in his eyes and his heart feels heavy because he knows what he needs to do but part of him doesn’t want to.

Doesn’t want to lose _this_.

_Your fault_

The accusation haunts through his head and the breath he draws is shuddering, unsteady just like the rest of him. “Yes, I suppose I should.”

 

\---

 

He stands in front of the Captain’s desk.

Rigid, sad, filled with resignation.

Fleetingly, he thinks of blood on his hands and a disappointed voice.

 _All your fault_.

He’s doing the right thing, he tells himself despite the pain in his heart and the regret in his eyes.

Eyes that are currently focused on Jim Kirk, sitting at his desk and reading the message on the PADD Pavel just handed to him.

“Chekov…” Kirk sighs and lowers the PADD, lets it fall onto the desk and although it only hits softly the sound seems to echo through the small space that is the Captain’s ready-room. “Pavel,” he continues, voice softer and a small frown on his face, “I don’t want to accept this resignation.”

Pavel falters, blinks and frowns because this was _not_ the words he was expecting.

_Your fault_

“Captain,” he mutters, accent thick around the word in his nervousness.

“I have to if I can’t change your mind. I’m not going to let anyone stay here against their will.” Kirk says, holding up a hand as if to apologize for his earlier words. Then, however, he drops the hand and he almost looks lost as his blue eyes pierce into Pavel’s. “But just… why?”

Pavel stands straight, keeps his eyes on his Captain – because he is not afraid of being reprimanded – as he admits: “I have failed.”

Kirk frowns deeply and he leans forward on his desk, confusion clear in his voice as he says: “You have done no such thing.”

Pavel takes a shuddering breath, shakes his head and with his mouth as dry as a desert manages to say: “People died. Spock’s mother _died_ because of _me_.” His voice breaks on the last word, his hands trembling at his side.

Understanding dawns onto Kirk’s face, understanding tinged with horror and upset and all he manages is a breathless “Pavel,” before the room falls into silence again.

Kirk’s eyes fall to the desk, to the PADD and he frowns angrily at it before his eyes snap up to Pavel again. “You must know that there was absolutely nothing you could have done,” he says, voice steady and without any hesitation.

Pavel is taken aback by Kirk’s conviction, by the honesty in his eyes and the simplicity of his words.

It goes against everything his mind is telling him right now.

Screaming at him.

_Your fault_

He bites his lip and shakes his head, not able to utter any words.

Understanding falls over Kirk’s face and he asks “have you spoken to Spock?” despite already knowing the answer.

A hysterical laugh passes Pavel’s lips and he turns his head to the floor with a sob. “How can I?”

Kirk’s chair scraping backwards makes Pavel flinch, a shudder running through him.

_Your fault_

But as Kirk steps around the desk, the Captain melts away. Makes place for blue eyes so understanding it hurts, for compassion in the arms that wrap around Pavel and for reassurance in a steady, soft murmur of “it’ll be all right,” against the side of Pavel’s head.

And Pavel lets his head drop, his forehead against Kirk’s shoulder and his shoulders shake and his hands are clenched into fists as he tries to not fall apart completely.

In that moment, they are not Captain and Ensign.

It is Jim comforting Pavel, from one boy forced to grow up too fast to another.

And Pavel’s resignation letter lies forgotten on the desk.

 

\---

 

He stands at the edge of a ravine.

He closes his eyes and feels the wind in his hair, over his skin and now, he thinks, he’ll know what it’s like.

The earth splits beneath his feet, cracking like a too thin layer of first ice on the lake at his childhood home, giving way and falling into nothingness.

Just like on Vulcan.

It’s ironic in a way that he is to go in the same way as those who he has failed.

Whom he has lost.

Whose blood stains his hands and whose screams haunt his dreams.

But it’s good, Pavel thinks.

The irony serves him right.

He deserves no less and no more than this.

So as the ground falls and breaks and he is pulled into nothingness together with the crumbling earth, he spreads his arms.

He spreads his arms and lets himself fall, lets the wind tug at his hair and he closes his eyes hoping that now it will finally be over.

Yet as the face of the earth comes closer and closer and the wind pulls harder and harder a voice reaches his ears.

Seems to float through the air.

Fill his mind.

_Ensign_

Something pulls at his shoulder and he starts tumbling in the air, twisting and turning and the wind now _screams_ in his ears, cuts his skin and all he thinks is _no, no, no!_

_Chekov_

_Wake up_

His whole body convulses, shakes and all his senses seem on edge, his entire world falls and shakes and rumbles and in a flash, it’s over.

He’s not falling anymore.

There is no more falling rocks, no more wind.

Instead, as he blinks open his eyes, he’s on the Enterprise.

He’s sitting on a soft and comfortable couch and there is a blanket clenched between his fists, his curls sticking to his forehead and he’s sweaty all over, chest heaving as he draws deep, rasped breaths.

A hand on his shoulder startles him and he flinches back, turns in an instant with eyes wide and hands raised in front of him.

“Chekov,” Spock’s voice is as calm and collected as always as he calls out to him.

For a moment Pavel can only look at Spock.

The familiar pale skin, dark eyes, his hands raised in front of him in a sign of peace and a projection of surrender, of safety.

Pavel feels his shoulders relax, his hands unclench and he almost breathes a sigh of relief before he draws tight again.

“How did I…?” he looks around and he gets more worried because these are not his quarters. These are Spock’s and he is on Spock’s couch in what is obviously the middle of the night.

Covered by a blanket.

His eyes shoot up to Spock. “Why did you…?”

Spock moves closer to the couch, squats down in front of it and he sighs softly. “You came knocking on my door about three hours ago. You wouldn’t listen to me and when I sat you down on the couch you went straight back to sleep. I called doctor McCoy.” Spock leans his head to the side, expression softening, “he explained you sleepwalk when worried and it was best if I left you asleep.”

“I…” Pavel starts and falters.

_Have you spoken to Spock?_

_I suggest you speak to Spock._

It turns out that despite not having listened to either is Captain or his CMO, he still needs to speak to Spock.

For here he is and there is no way out.

“Or out of guilt,” he mutters and his eyes are on his lap and his hands are back to clenched fists. “I sleepwalk out of worry or guilt.”

“Chekov,” Spock gets up and pushes aside the blanket, sits down onto the couch next to Pavel far enough that they aren’t touching but close enough that he offers some form of silent comfort. “You can’t go on like this.”

He knows.

Oh God, does Pavel know.

But how can he _not_ go on like this? How can he ever get rid of the guilt, of the blood, how can he ever forget what he’s done.

What he’s failed to do.

When Pavel doesn’t speak, doesn’t elaborate, it is Spock that breaks the silence with a steady voice, hands in his lap and eyes on the wall in front of him. “I am mourning the loss of my people as well as the loss of my mother.”

It’s stated so clearly, so matter-of-factly yet it makes Pavel’s throat feel thick and he has to force himself to breathe.

Then Spock turns his head, a softness to his eyes as he says: “Thus there is no need for you to do it for me.”

“But I didn’t save her.” Pavel argues straight away.

Spock raises an eyebrow, pointing out: “Yet there were many you _did_ save.”

The words knock the air out of Pavel.

But Spock isn’t done speaking his mind.

“Life is fleeting and as I have heard someone say before, unfair, because we simply can not save everyone.” Spock says and sits silent next to Pavel for a moment and the long breath he draws is the only indication that he’s trying to calm himself. “You have no more fault in my mother’s death than anyone else. Save Nero. He is the only one that carries blame.”

Pavel nods silently, feels something nasty start to uncurl in his chest at Spock’s words.

Because Spock doesn’t think it’s his fault.

Spock doesn’t blame him.

When he feels long fingers curling around his knee he looks up.

Confused, devastated still but somehow lighter.

“If I say there is nothing to forgive for you did nothing wrong then surely you can find it within your mind to forgive yourself,” Spock offers and there is kindness in his voice and forgiveness in his eyes.

Pavel nods, takes a shuddering breath and closes his eyes. “I suppose,” he mumbles and thinks that perhaps, _perhaps_ tomorrow he can believe Spock.

And as they sit in silence, next to each other on the couch, Spock mourns more than just the loss of his family, his people, his planet.

He also mourns the loss of Pavel’s youth.

For no matter how strong Pavel will grow after this, he is no youth. The numbers of his age might say he’s seventeen but he isn’t.

Not really.

Not anymore, never again.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on [Tumblr](http://thevalesofanduin.tumblr.com/) <3


End file.
